Sinful by Victor McGlothin Page A

the way home.”
    We most certainly will talk about it, Chandelle thought, while dragging her feet all the way out to the parking lot. “Have a good week, Sistah Kolislaw,” she spoke pleasantly to one of the mothers of the congregation. Once inside the car, it was another story. “Now, what’s this about you wanting to work on Sunday? We both decided that Sundays were family-me-and-you-chill days. Why didn’t you confer with me about it?”
    â€œI didn’t want to get into it because I knew we’d be right here doing this, fussing about it. Sometimes I hate being right.”
    â€œWhat’s right about you living at the job, Marvin? If you’d taken a regular office position by now, this wouldn’t even be an issue.”
    Marvin huffed as he turned the wheel to exit the lot. “If you didn’t have to have a more expensive house, it wouldn’t be an issue either. Chandelle, there’s a cost that goes with moving upstream.” When she didn’t have words to combat his, Marvin assumed the discussion was over, but his wife was only catching her breath.
    Chandelle gathered her thoughts and chose her words. No matter how she planned on using them, they seemed to backfire in her mind every time. When Marvin parked her car outside of their apartment building, Chandelle was positive she had an airtight argument to keep him home. Then the unthinkable happened: He pushed the trunk release button from the inside.
    As the lid sprang upward, she screamed but nothing came out. She had forgotten to return the mink coat. Ready to take her punishment for breaking their agreement on purchases above one hundred dollars, Chandelle held her breath and winced.
    â€œAre you too mad at me to get out of the car?” he asked, fiddling around in the side wells for a music CD. “Ahh, there it is,” he mumbled to himself, before slamming the trunk shut. Chandelle was afraid to face him until he forced her hand. “Aren’t you getting out? Don’t tell me you’re hot enough at me to sit out here in the cold?”
    â€œNo, no, I’m not mad,” she whimpered. I just got a pardon from the governor.
    â€œCool, because we’ll need some extra money and I don’t like fighting with my woman,” he said, softly kissing her on the cheek. “Let’s go in and make up. I’ve got an hour before I punch in.”
    â€œOhhh, yeah,” she flirted seductively. “I’ve got something you can punch right here.”
    â€œI’ll bet you do. Let me put on this CD, then you can show it to me,” Marvin growled softly.
    Chandelle tossed her eyes up at the sky and thanked her lucky stars, though she wasn’t sure God had anything to do with her having gotten away with deceiving her husband. No sooner than she felt confident that the stars had aligned in her favor, the doorbell sounded. Chandelle was half dressed and almost deeply into an afternoon rendezvous with Marvin when the doorbell rang again. “Let it ring, baby,” she said, when he hesitated with the business at hand, pleasing her. “It’s probably somebody selling something.”
    â€œNo, no, it’s Sunday,” he said, grabbing a handful of Chandelle’s hair.
    â€œThat’s my point,” she answered cunningly.
    The doorbell rang for a third time with an intermittent rally of bothersome raps thrown in. “I’ll get it,” Marvin grunted, though not nearly in the intimate manner he’d laid on Chandelle to put her in the mood. “Don’t you move an inch,” he said, slipping on his robe and house shoes.
    Chandelle gestured at the rise in his robe. “I won’t if you won’t.”
    â€œI’m coming,” he yelled in the direction of the door. “Hold on a minute.” One quick glance through the peephole deflated his hopes of finishing what he’d started. There were no peddlers bidding for a